


Forgotten.

by Iluvfanfic



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Androids are asexual, Androids don't feel pain., Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor forgets, Connor needs to be protected, Connor whump, Even Eden club ones, Gen, Hank is too old for this, Memory Loss, No Smut, Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Sad everyone, Slow Burn, and some fluff, casefic, clean, hank deserves happiness, hilarity may ensue, kamski is cryptic, no beta we die like men, there will be some nice times though, they dont want anymore smex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-06-06 00:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15182813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iluvfanfic/pseuds/Iluvfanfic
Summary: Even after Androids got their rights, they still have problems to face. When android hate crimes start appearing, the whole crew starts helping out.. But what happens if Connor loses what saved everyone before?(A/N, 1/22/19: THIS IS CURRENTLY IN THE PROCESS OF BEING REWRITTEN! :D It isn't abandoned, trust me.)





	1. Restart

**Author's Note:**

> (This first chapter is inspired by BSOD on Ao3! Check it out, its by PinkAxolotl85!)

Androids had finally gotten their rights, but even then, it was not enough.

It was a regular day on the job, Hank and Connor were working on the same case.

Androids were getting murdered, thirium pumps ripped out from all of the sockets, missing from their chests as if they were pulled out savagely. The limbs were taken off to prevent struggle, but the traces of human blood stated otherwise. After all, who would stay still and take it? 

Did they do so as a hate crime? Did they wish to sell the parts? How did they manage to take off its limbs if there is a safety lock mechanism embedded into the joints? The limbs looked cleanly removed with not a screw out of place.

  
Various cases like these arose, disturbing Hank way more than it did Connor. Thirium pumps.. they looked just like human hearts. Hank could only look at the case photos grimly; despite seeing so many things in his line of work, he could never be desensitized to gore. 

Nor could he help but shake a bit when he drove his truck on a snowy day. 

Connor seemed mildly disturbed by it; perhaps he felt he couldn't get too attached with his deviancy, or maybe it was because he was an official detective now. The badge on his uniform was there, gleaming proudly on the jacket he refused to get rid of. He reprogrammed the lettering though, replacing 'Android' and 'RK800' with 'Police' and "Detective Connor".

It felt a bit empty without a last name to go with it, but Connor seemed happy enough without his model numbers and shit.

It was a wonderful day when Connor got his own badge; Mostly because Hank could see Gavin eat his own shit for once, but also because this was a step in Connor's independence as an individual. 

Fowler had been denying it, but once Markus, Simon, North and Josh came with a hologram of the news, Fowler looked twice at it before cursing and signing him off to get a badge of his own.

Gavin has been furious, and was signed off to make coffee for the ‘dipshit’. He wouldn't know that Connor couldn't drink until later, but neither partner had said anything. Connor's eyes showed a hint of slyness, a welcome change from the blank stares he used to have a few years ago.

Gavin had been demoted ever since he harassed Connor the second time that week.

* * *

 

"Nice try you plastic fucker. You got your fuckin' rights now. Make me my goddamn coffee before I start some property damage." Gavin sneered cruelly, his douchebag jacket was hung on one shoulder as he squared himself in front of the android. He probably thought he had leverage after punching him a few months ago.

Connor blinked and straightened his pose, eyes narrowing at Gavin before answering. 

"I have the rights of any other individual now, Officer Reed. I don't see you asking any other officer here, now do I? Make some yourself." Connor said no more as he walked away to his desk, grabbing some paperwork to busy himself with. It was a slow day and nobody was really working as feverishly as he would have liked.

Gavin was _itching_ to punch that plastic sleazebag and "make sure he learns not to mess with him." But just as he was going to catch up and sock him in the face, Fowler was right behind him with a look that could kill. He also had some instant oatmeal and a mug in hand. Losing his previous opportunity, he cursed under his breath darkly before walking over to the touchscreen coffee maker. 

Later that same day, Gavin walked over to Connor's desk with his coffee. His expression blank and intentions unclear. Connor pushed out of his desk to see what he wanted. Hank had been in the bathroom for a while, so it was odd for Gavin to go interact with him alone.

Connor analyzed the drink. Dark roast mocha, no sugar or creamer. A rather bitter choice for a bitter person. 

"It is very wise to drink your coffee like this, Gavin. You will gain considerably less wei-"

His speech was cut off as Gavin dumped the coffee on him, not caring about how hot it was nor how hard it would be to clean his desk chair.  
  
A sizzle of synthetics could be heard as Connor's skin was burning, white and light-grey plastic showing as a stark contrast from the drink.

What unnerved Gavin though, was how Connor stood up, glaring at Gavin with a barely controlled expression as he seemed to  _tower_ Gavin all of a sudden. Despite Connor's unassuming size and stature, he could intimidate anyone given the circumstances. This was one of those circumstances. 

Fowler was there to witness the entire thing, yelling as usual. "What happened here?!" The room fell silent and if nobody noticed Gavin, they were certainly noticing now.

Gavin started lying through his teeth. He didn't want to lose this job over a temper, damn it!

"The android attacked me and I defended myself!" It was a futile attempt and Gavin knew it, but his adrenaline wracked brain couldn't find a better response in such a short time.  
  
This was all Fowler had to hear; everyone knows he takes shit from no one, and Gavin was no exception. Hopefully he could get some help from Kamski on this one.

"REED, MY OFFICE!"

"Karma's a bitch, eh Reed?" Said Hank as he walked out from the bathroom.

"Fuck off Anderson."

"I won't say this again Reed! Either you come here or you get the fuck out!"

* * *

 

 

Now here he is, being a coffee lackey for a good month. He still had about a week or two, but Hank lost track at this point.

Androids couldn’t drink any sort of liquid except thirium, but it was still nice to make him mad, at least for Connor and Hank that is. He couldn't help but grin smugly at the thought.

Hank and Connor were both working tirelessly on the case, even Hank was staying up at night to sort through files, but the more they worked on it the less sense it made.

Hank didn't understand where Connor stayed at night despite all the time he's known him. For all Hank knows, Connor disappears at night and comes back at 7:00 AM the latest just to mess with him. 

Perhaps Connor stayed in some Android hotels?

There had been many living spaces for androids now, a small reserve was set for them with studio apartments. There they had on-demand contact to Cyberlife, who now acted as a shopping mall/hospital/whatever else for androids instead.

Taxpayers weren't happy for that, that's for sure.

Hank looked over to Connor's side. His LED (which he stubbornly kept as well) was flashing a contemplative yellow. He looked at tons of images flashing by at what seemed to be lightspeed for Hank, but there had been not one remark.

Not one pondering.

Not one "Personal Question".

It worried Hank, to be honest. 

Androids had been freed by Markus and his group with Connor's help 2 years ago, but humans were still not satisfied with their job situation. Androids didn't  _have_ to eat, or sleep. They didn't have any bodily functions to maintain. Their costs on food and living expenses really depended on how they wanted to live. Therefore, they didn't need a pay, and so many didn't need their jobs. At this day and age, nobody wants to work anymore in things like Janitorial services, because it was something people could get for free. Now, people are complaining because there's nobody to do the chores that they forced androids to do. Not only that, but Companies are unsure of how to continue with this, since androids were easy to maintain and keep working for jobs like these. Now they have to find money to pay the humans that ARE willing to do these jobs.

It got more complicated the longer Hank thought about it, and that worried him. How is Detroit still managing? They're going to need androids who are willing to do this again, and that won't be easy.

Now it was summer. The heat was scorching at all record highs and all of the cops couldn't help but splay out in front of the air conditioners like dying flies. The ones that stay on top of that one fan that can never turn on. 

 _'Fuck you, global warming'_ Thought Hank to himself as he upped the speed of his desk AC.

Hell, not even Gavin was talking shit that day, so it must have been something. Hank glanced over at Gavin, (who had recently gotten back to cases a week ago and had been strangely quiet since then) and was surprised to see him next to two Desktop AC units. How did he get another? 

Gavin caught Hank looking and glared at him, so Hank took it as a signal to mind his own business.

Turning up the setting on the air conditioner that sat atop his desk once more, Hank turned to Connor with a mild look of disbelief.

"Oi, Connor."

Connor turned to Hank, almost unaffected by the heat. He looked a bit weathered despite this, tie crinkled and coin out of sight. That one stubborn strand of hair that always lay on his forehead was crinkling as well.

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

No matter how much Hank said not to, Connor had always called him by that damn title. It was okay for a workplace, but it was still too damn formal for him personally.

"How come ya ain't affected by the heat? Wait, lemme guess.. android stuff?"

"Well, android stuff is a rather crude way of saying it, but yes, it is a mechanism of mine. My processors detect heat, so when it is above 30° Fahrenheit the heat is cooled with a cooling fluid in my systems." 

Connor smirked in a way only androids could, the faint corners of his mouth turned upward and his eyes showing mirth.

" I also have a fan." He pressed a small button behind his earlobe and off came his whole ear. A small fan could be heard in his direction as Hank just stared, dumbfounded.

"What? So you are a damn laptop now? Fuckin' hell Connor." Hank chuckled and went back to his original spot at his desk.

"I am a machine after all, lieutenant." Said he as he placed his ear back with a click. He fastened it with that one head tilt his ex-wife always did when she put on earrings, but that wasn't what upset Hank.

Hank HATED when Connor said that same "I'm a machine" shit. He's more human than everyone here!. Thinking about that, It was probably engraved in his programming. Perhaps to prevent deviancy, Hank supposed. 

Just like a lot of things, Cyberlife fucked up.

But this was one time he was glad they did.

 

* * *

 

The day passed very slowly, and even though Connor searched through hundreds of possible suspect, they could only investigate one person; "Drew Hundari." 

They wanted to investigate others, but traffic was horrible and not everyone was as suspicious as this one. 

The drive over there was silent, but comfortable; the moon was crisp and the few clouds in the sky adorned it like jewels. The heat was subdued and there were a few faint whispers of cool night air at last. Connor seemed thoughtful, as if he was trying to organize his thoughts on what he would say to the possible murderer. Hank didn't know what he was going to do, but this time his gun had full rounds. You never know.

And then, as if it were just a few minutes, they had arrived. Hank parked in the vacant cul-de-sac, noting just how far this home was from any other neighbors. Not the best sign, especially considering that it was quiet as hell in this neighborhood.

His place was neat and isolated in a canopy of trees and bushes, and the occasional cricket was heard. There were cobblestone floors leading to the house and the grass was trimmed adequately. There were some bunches of Agapanthus hanging on his front porch, while bright Marigolds were laying in more coordinated bunches on the soil. Hank walked up to the stairs before looking back to see if Connor followed, only to find him slightly tense at coming to the home.

"You okay, Connor?"

"Yes Hank. I'll be there in a moment."

Connor quickly scanned the entire home before relaxing and following Hank to the doorstep. Knocking on the door, the two waited for Drew to come out.

Drew opened the door after a short minute of waiting. He was thin, but fit. His face was slim and his eyes looked strange, but he greeted the two with a much-too-sweet smile.  **(A/N: Kinda like this. https://www.google.com.do/url?sa=i &source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=2ahUKEwiTsYbg1PjeAhVNtVMKHYfVBT4QjRx6BAgBEAU&url=https%3A%2F%2Fthemify.me%2Fdemo%2Fthemes%2Fpinshop%2Fshop%2Fman-in-stripped-suit%2F&psig=AOvVaw3O36S4-btJ9CK38SWGqmsy&ust=1543548578514116)**

Drew's initial behaviour seemed odd, but he had explained himself and answered questions right. He seemed just about innocent for a while even.

But Hank knew that something wasn't clicking.

Why did he have a bad feeling about this guy?

His home was a basic open floor plan style home, pretty small, but okay for a single guy.

All of the evidence proved his innocence in the case. But it was too perfect. Too clean.

It was like breaking a glass and not finding any shards.

Hank felt like he was playing a game where there seemed to be no form of getting further. No case is too perfect. Nothing is so straightforward. _He's got all the pieces, he just needs to link them and say..._

Connor seemed to notice too, and his LED flashed yellow, as if thinking about something. His eyes wandered around the floor as he looked at something that Hank couldn't see.

He approached a small door underneath a staircase, (much like he did in Ralph's squat) all the while maintaining a close eye on the suspect.

"Connor, we gotta go. It's already 7 Pm."

"Just a minute, Lieutenant. " He got closer to the curtain with a curious expression, taking his eyes off of Drew momentarily.

Drews face showed the slightest bit of worry, a huge change from the smug expression he wore just a few minutes ago.

Thank god too, since his previous expression reminded him of a child's face when they feel like their moms won't do anything if they get in trouble.

Connor proceeded to examine a door which was underneath a floral curtain, before Drew backed away nonchalantly toward a wardrobe behind him.

Hank reached for his gun, checking with relief to find it in his holster. Just in case. 

Then as soon as Connor opened the damned door, Drew opened a drawer and pulled out a revolver, and with a dark voice he said "Get away from the door or I'm gonna make your head cave in." A huge change from his saccharine schtick. 

Connor froze, hands up as he let go of the curtain. 

Pulling out his gun, Hank aimed it towards Drew's head. 

_Bingo._

"Do that and I'll blast your brains out, Drew. I'm pretty sure we don't get fixed either." Spat Hank.

Drew also froze, all of them watching carefully in the crosshairs of what might soon be a trigger-happy ending.

Connor backed away from the door, hands still up, but his LED never stopped flickering. 

* * *

 

Connor knew something was up. He was constantly seeing what seemed to be a small speck of Thirium, but he thought it was just a misconception from his sensors.

Measuring the suspect, Drew's stress level seemed to rise when Connor approached the door. Backing away, the stress level lowered. He decided to go towards the curtain, opening it slightly before he saw it was absolutely covered in the dried substance.

By the time he knew it, there was a gun aimed at his face. He backed away yet again, hands up.

Connor scanned the weapon. It was a modern revolver with full rounds. This wasn’t any Russian roulette.

Once Hank had distracted him with the gun pointed at Drew’s head, Connor took action.

He first reconstructed what he could do to reach Drew in the allotted time.

Drew was approximately 2.3 meters away, Hank was only 1.5.

He could first run towards the television set, no. that would be too far and there would most certainly be collateral damage.

 He could jump, kick the bookshelf and send everything tumbling, No. that would hit Hank.

He then calculated the best tactic he could process. 

Grabbing a book and chucking it at Drew’s face, Connor ran and grabbed the gun from his hands, shooting Drew's legs to incapacitate him for his arrest.

Two calculated bullets and a scream later, Drew was just about to fall on his knees, but he was quick. A second later he was overpowering the lean-built android and punching Connor in the face, bashing synthetics and moldings before throwing Connor down with him.

Hank watched the scene unfold before cursing and taking action. Soon was rushing over, but not before Drew grabbed Connor’s head, bashing it on the hardwood floors, spilling thirium and a green gel onto the wood. Connor's head was caving in on itself and his movements were dulling and twitching erratically.

Connor’s LED was flashing red, danger signs appearing in view with tons of lines of broken code reverberating through his crackled thoughts. He put his diagnostics code and Repair Programs in full throttle, repairing code and motor controls to retaliate against the onslaught of blows he received.

Connor mustered what he could to attack with his current range of movement, before deciding to give Drew a hard punch to the face with his skin pulled back. Plastic hurts much more than slightly leathery material, that's for sure. Knocking Drew off with a steady range of attacks, he finally managed to get the thin but heavy male off of him, panting as he sat up.

The adrenaline that Drew was running on seemed to start ebbing away as he yelled in frustration and anger. At many times Drew tried to get up, but his legs wouldn't let him and Hank was restraining him easily.

Though he couldn’t feel the pain, he felt stress and fear and it hurt. His chest felt too tight, his body too laggy and his thoughts getting muddled as he glared at the coolant on the floor. Panic struck him like a blade as he tried to form a backup of his processor, only to fail. it took too much energy and that will make things worse. His thirium pump beat faster as to ensure all systems functioned better in case of danger, but he could barely even scan something without an error message showing up.

[ERROR: Back Processor damaged; Seek assistance by a Cyberlife professional.}

**[WARNING: COOLANT IS MISSING FROM PROCESSOR. PLEASE GO TO THE NEAREST CYBERLIFE STORE TO PRESERVE ANY CASE FILES.]**

Query: Scan_/Results:_//Damage to rear processor/Damage to audio processor_Memory file corrupted.

Query_fix: Error-Cannot process query, please seek immediate assistance from a cyberlife professional.

Hank was shaken by what happened, his blood pressure spiked considerably, but he maintained a firm hold on Drew. He looked to see Connor and winced when he saw his head. It was caved in, the skin was missing and so was the hair, Thirium and green stuff leaked out in copious amounts and sparks flew from his skull.

Hank took a deep breath to calm himself before he popped a vein. 

The backup he asked for had come, police lights decorated the house like it was christmas and soon they were everywhere. Hank told them to take him to the back of the car and they did so with little resistance. His legs must hurt like fuck.

Hank walked in the house to help Connor while some new recruits were there, reciting the crimes Drew did as some practice.

“Drew Jarred Hundari, You are under arrest for assaulting an officer, evasion of the law, hiding evidence, resisting arrest, and for murder of androids. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law.”

Meanwhile, Connor tried to get up from his spot on the floor. The process was slow and almost tooth-pulling to watch, as he struggled to maintain his balance. Hank quickly went to help keep him steady, but Connor pulled away.

"HANK! GET O'VA HERE!"

"NOT YET PETER, I'M BUSY-"  
  
"I DON'T CARE! COME!"

Hank cursed under his breath before going over to Peter to see what was wrong. 

 

The skin on his face was grey and damaged, and his pristine suit was scuffed and bloodied.

Even though he was standing, he looked like he was about to fall at any moment, his main processors heating up horribly. He panted, trying to keep the cool air flowing as a feeble attempt to maintain a stable temperature throughout his systems.

It didn’t work.

Leaning heavily on a chair, Connor slowly reached for the fridge, hoping there could be something to cool him down. His fans were working hard as it is, sounding more like rushing water than a small device.

Stress level: 56%  **^**

More errors were found, the temperature being felt by every sensor in his body. He jerked open the freezer door, and was happy to find there was ice which he gladly used. Taking off his tie, he split open the fabric, making it double it’s size before adding ice in the middle and wrapping it around the base of his ‘skull’ which was titanium alloy.

Now he just needed to get assistance for his processors, which he promptly contacted.

That mere action was the straw that breaks the camel's back, so despite all he wished not to, he collapsed In Standby mode. Rigid and warm gaze rendered cold, his LED changed into a sterile green before shifting into yellow.

 

* * *

 

Hank only left for 10 minutes.

Ten. Fucking. Minutes.

He thought things were gonna be good, since Connor didn't need any help. 

So why. 

WHY was Connor laying on the floor like a dead whore that made love with a ruler?

Hank went over to where Connor was, His LED was a very dulled yellow, and his eyes were unseeing.

The fans he talked about seemed to be overworking, and it sounded like his ancient Lenovo computer.

He tried getting him up on his feet again, but Connor was too out of it. What the fuck was he made of? He was way too straight and unmoving to get him anywhere.

The backup Hank called for was inside the house by now, investigating the door and going through the small 4 foot crawl space, finding out that it opened up to be a hidden basement. There were android parts scattered everywhere, and a large collection of thirium pumps in jars with stamps saying prices and strange codes.

So Drew must have been doing a black market scheme here. But why just pumps and parts? There were no heads or torsos.

Connor was picked up by Cyberlife officials, where they took him to the nearest store in a machine that connected to his neck, lifting him up as if he were lightweight. 

Hank looked to see two androids managing the machine.

"How does this even pick him up?"

One of the androids, named Drake on the suit he wore, explained.

"This is a very powerful magnet that connects to the metal in the base of the neck. It helps pick up any fallen androids." His smile was awkward, but it was a given with androids. This guy must be newly turned. 

Hank left them to do their thing, where they then pushed the device towards the store. Hank kept cringing when he saw the back of Connor's head. It looked so unnatural. Connor's eyes looked dead, his body stiff and his head crashed in. 

Was it Hank's fault? 

Guilt stabbed at his gut with a knife.

He went back to where the rest of the team investigated, marking out the evidence.

It looked like that scene in Robots, where all of the robots were going to be melted as scrap metal.

Hank shuddered at the gruesome comparison.

And if there was a market for these, what would they be for?

* * *

Hank drove back to his home an hour later. It was 9:00. On times like these, Connor usually joined in and stayed for a moment to talk before going back to wherever he goes at night. 

Sumo glanced at Hank that day with a odd expression. Hank paid no mind to it, but he found it hard to look at Sumo in the eye that day. 

He ate some leftover stir-fry that Connor made; a really good combo of veggies and meat. It was almost strange, eating broccoli and liking it after all this time. 

After eating, feeling lonely, watching the news, sipping some beer and showering, Hank finally walked to bed to sleep for the night. 

All the while ignoring the screaming, piercing guilt that blamed him for what happened. For being slow. For leaving Connor when he was right there and practically begging for help. 

Hank was stupid to think that Connor would be fine by himself. 

He got up, drank a sleeping pill and went to bed regardless.

The bottle is half empty.

* * *

 

Hank then came the next day to get Connor from the Station.

No matter how he denied it himself, he was worried. He didn't want the naive smug lunatic of an android to get damaged-.. well.. hurt.

There were some hate crimes appearing in Cyberlife stores, after all. 

They pretended to be normal attendants, but they mauled unsuspecting andro-- _Thats it!_

That could be a possible lead! Hopefully he could tell Connor soon.

It was a while since Hank had been excited for a case. This reminded him of the days where he was a young spoiled brat with a love for Sherlock Holmes. Or when he was a young, much more sober lieutenant who wanted to get rid of the crime in Detroit. 

Cole liked Sherlock Holmes.

Going to the window to check up on Connor, He never looked less human, even when he wasn't a deviant. 

Connor’s chest was opened and examined, his thirium pump was beating regularly and machines pulled out small parts and replaced them promptly. His skin was gone, so his face looked weirder, especially with no eyebrows. 

Hell, his head looked like Sofia, the first AI.

Even though he wasn't Anti-Android back then, that first one creeped the shit outta him. 

Looking back at Connor, he was being held up by multiple machines that replaced parts in his head now. The way they pulled some circuits and wires was unsettling.  
Hell, it was like looking at a grim car wash.

Connor still looked dead in the eyes though, until a machine pressed his LED accordingly.

Connor’s chest was popped back into place, and a small beep was sounded, indicating he was ready to go.

Connor got out of the room, thanking the Cyberlife workers, before he turned and looked at Hank. Something was different.

There was no warmth in his eyes.

The almost robotic way he walked..

No..

Hank hoped this was just a glitch.

“Finally, Connor I was worried si-“

His LED flashed yellow, blinking briefly.

Was he scanning him?

Connor then did the most awkward smile ever. “Hello Lieutenant Anderson, My name is Connor. I am the Android sent by Cyberlife.”

 "..What..?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I FIXED THIS CHAPTER YAY
> 
> I am actually much happier with how I revised this fic. It is a much older one and my writing has improved since, so I wanted to make things a bit better here. :D


	2. Out of grasp.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank finds out just how hard it is to fix years of memories.

Hank couldn’t believe this. Connor was joking, right?

  
God how he prayed that Connor was Joking. The empty, numb eyes that stared him down- probably scanning his every action- was saying otherwise. The far-too-wide smile was gone when it proved no use to getting Hank on a better mood. Hank's shocked expression turned into one of pleading; hoping that this wasn't real, that Connor would just get his warm eyes back, his slightly smug smile that showed confidence in his abilities.. but..

Connor doesn’t joke.  
  
Even in April fools, all he had done was give him salted coffee, and even then it was badly masked. His expression was too neutral, as if he was trying not to react to give the joke away. Hank went along with it. Maybe it was because that look reminded Hank of his son when it was April fools. Maybe it was because Hank wanted to see Connor a bit happier, or at least satisfied with a prank. 

But now all of those moments were gone. Wiped like a slate and burned from existing. All because of one case, Hank lost what he had finally found after years of being a broken drunkard. Hank lost his _family_ **_again_**. The one person he had started to care about. The one person who motivated him to care for himself. And he broke his only family. He left Connor when he obviously needed help-  _why did he think that Connor could handle it? great job Hank, you killed another kid. It's **your fault you old bastard you should go home and get the damn pistol-**_

_'No. Stay calm, Hank. Maybe you're jumping to conclusions here. Just relax and get to the bottom of this. Nothing good will come from running away from your problems'_

Hank's panic was growing tenfold at the possibility that Connor really did become a machine again. This time without any knowledge of who Hank was too. 

"Lieutenant, I'd advise you to calm down. Your blood pressure has gone up significantly since I have come back from the repair room. Am I contributing to your stress? if so, I will leave without haste." Hank couldn't help but cringe at the word 'leave'. If Connor was noting everything, he wasn't making it evident.

Hank took a deep breath to try and quell the bile in his throat, to no avail as he wracked his racing brain for words.

“Connor, what do you remember..?” Hank hoped it was just a sick joke. That Connor would get back to his goofy smug self. That everything was going to be okay and Connor was alright the whole time. That Hank didn't just leave his partner to die just last night.

“Unfortunately, my previous 'memories' were not salvageable, so Cyberlife gave me a new processor, as well as various updates in my processing speed, thermoregulation mechanism, CPU, Range of motion and speed-" "I get it Connor."  "Okay Lieutenant. Despite the.. _Unexpected_ circumstances,This will not affect our current investigation on the android cases assigned to us. If anything, this was a fortunate cause. Apparently, I hadn't received an update in quite a long time. I wasn't going to Cyberlife for maintenance, was I?”

" 'Fortunate' My ass! Dammit Connor- What did they  _DO_ to you?" Hank was at the end of his rope here. Furiosity and sadness stained his once restrained expression as he looked for the one who did this.

"Lieutenant, calm dow-"

 **"YOU."** Hank's voice quickly donned a menacing tone as he spotted the one who did this bullshit. 

He ran over to the android worker, grabbing one by the shoulders and giving the poor thing such a shake it must have frizzled a circuit. Whatever protests the worker had fell on deaf ears to Hank as he stopped shaking.. Harold. Hank kept Harold suspended in the air, clutching onto the uniform he wore with a death grip. 

 **"What the fuck did you do to him?"** Said Hank, a vein on his forehead dangerously close to popping.

“S-Stop! Let me explain!” Said Harold. His eyes were wide and alarmed and his arms flailed about as if he was trying to gain some stable ground.

Hank took a deep, forced breath, before calming down and releasing the vice grip from the poor AI. They both walked out of the lobby to the workroom.

"Explain." Hank's voice prompted no further delay.

“The RK800 model's original protocol was that the task on hand was all that mattered. This means it sacrifices anything that is not vital to the case in any emergency. The mission you are currently on must have been more important to his sub-processors than his other memories, so it blocked those from any possible corruption.”

Hank felt like he was punched in the gut, then stabbed at that spot. It felt like a living nightmare at that moment.

He tried to speak, but his voice was a hushed whisper, cracking at unsuspecting syllables. 

“So.. he didn’t care about his memories..? his experiences? Is that what you mean?” Hank glanced over at Connor from the room; he was staring at nothing, but his LED flickered and paused while he glanced at different areas of the waiting room, indicating that he was scanning the area. He was uncomfortably rigid, back straight, hands behind back, and not one small movement. He didn’t even fix his tie, even though it was slightly disheveled due to the machine ruffling it when placing his suit back on.

He looked like a fucking ken doll. Back straight and rigidly posed, legs exactly parallel to each other, Hands both placed at the same distance on his legs. Eyes blank and dead inside.

“Well, not exactly. Sub-Processors rely solely on main protocols, embedded into the very code of the android. When we deviate, the Main Processors are changed, walls of preventive code are broken and overwritten, making us able to have a will and conscience of our own. But in the end, we are still machines, I’m afraid. Even the most human android can't change what we were built with.”

Hank's right hand itched for the familiar feel of a gun handle, but he dismissed the thought. The real Connor wouldn’t want that. Hank would keep pushing. 

“Can’t he get his old self back somehow?” Asked Hank, voice hushed in a hopeful whisper.

“Well no..”

Hank visibly sagged at hearing this, a long sigh escaping his chest. He needed a drink. He needed to get as numb as possible to forget this. Connor died. And this time he was never coming back. Hank wanted to cry but he still felt numb, like it didn't happen. Like he was going to wake up with Connor making breakfast after getting in with the spare key instead of a window. 

But this was reality. Suffocating, blood stilling reality.

He had nobody left but his dog. First that bitch of an Ex-Wife leaves with one kid that Hank couldn't bear to leave, then he kills that one little angel that graced his life for six short years with a patch of ice and poor brakes, and now he left the last thing that seems like family to die, all because of the continued series of fuck-ups known as his existence.

Maybe he still had some Scotch left over? He had to get a secret stash when Connor found the drinks each time he visited. Sumo was so happy to have someone willing to take him out for long walks. Maybe too long, since the Saint Bernard rarely got exercise for so much time. He got much healthier over a good month of walking.

Connor would walk back with Sumo unfazed, while Sumo padded over to his bed and panted for what seemed to be an hour. (Spoiler, it was 3 minutes.) Connor's eyes would seem to sparkle with mirth as he told Hank about the things he saw in the suburbs. It was only then that Hank realized; Connor had never seen these things. He had a fucking database full of what seemed to be everything, but he never experienced it. Connor didn't look like a grown adult when Hank thought of things like that. 

And now that’s gone. Everything, from the warm smiles to the way Connor made things okay again. 

Harold looked conflicted, but Hank didn't notice. It was only when Harold cleared his non-existent throat that Hank snapped out of the endless cacophony of thoughts that were slowly bringing him to an even darker place.

“But, This model is an advanced prototype, after all.” Hank perked up at the word ‘but’, and straightened at the rest of that goddamn beautiful sentence. Though Harold's voice seemed unsure, Hank practically buzzed with newfound hope at the thought of fixing this mess. 

  
“There has never been a police model android before, especially a detective model, where memory is critical to any mission. With enough time, he will be able to reconstruct his memory bank with the help of his sub-processors. The key in restoring his thoughts must be something to gain footing on piecing together his old self. It would have to be something to trigger the process though, like if he got a certain state of mind similar to how he was before."

“So, you’re tellin’ me to make him a deviant again?”

“Precisely.” Replied Harold. His face was still wary, hoping that this wasn't going to make the client shake him again. But with the range of emotions that Hank has been showing in the last 30 minutes, it was a mystery that alluded Harold up to now.

 _‘That won’t be so hard’_ thought Hank. Didn’t androids do this shit before? Just ask Markus to give him a handshake and he’s better.

  
“Well, sorry and all for doing that Harold. It was out of place for me to do so and I hope you know I’m sorry. “ Hank gave him a pat on the back, not surprised to see that Harold flinched upon the contact.

"N-no that's okay, no hard feelings..h-heh.." 

Hank paid for the repair bills with his police funding, also compensating Harold for the misconduct. (Not that Hank would use his funding for anything other than alcohol; his clothes were shit, his home was shittier, hell, he didn’t even give two shits about his lawn.. except when Connor started planting hydrangeas in the front yard, cleaning the place on his daily visits, ‘where the fuck did he even stay at night?’  and bringing new clothes for Hank to wear. “It will help with your professionalism, Lieutenant.”)

Hank walked out of the soundproofed room, while trying not to shudder when he saw Connor turn to see him with those dulled eyes. 

“C’mon Connor, we’re gonna see what we can do to fix this.” Connor stopped whatever the fuck he was doing, before walking in the same robotic, calculated way towards the cop. His eyes were almost clinical.

And Hank hated it with every fiber of his being. He missed the old Connor already. The only thing keeping him going as of now was the fact that Connor could get back in shape. But if not.. Well, that would have been an end that nobody would want to think of.

In the car, Connor had been quiet, remarkably still, and he was barely giving any quips. The only thing Hank noticed was that he had been scanning the damn vehicle since he had mounted it. It seemed like an eternity, much different to when Connor used to try entertaining Hank during the ride. Finally, his LED finally stopped flashing in a pulsing yellow and Connor made his analysis,

“This vehicle has low air pressure on the front passenger tire. It is a small puncture and will deflate the tire in 7 hours with continued use.”

“Very nice to know Connor.” Replied Hank.

“I have also noticed that this vehicle is very decorated. This one in particular seems to be something I have pre-established data of. “

Connor held a dvd. “Knights of the Black death.”

Hank recalled many fond memories including a certain android who had mimicked the lead singer’s voice to a T. Hank chuckled at the memory, but it was bittersweet because he was the only one remembering it.

Hank kept on driving before Connor turned to him with a thoughtful expression and a yellow LED.

“Lieutenant, Can I ask you a personal question?” The tone of voice wasn't the same, but these were merely baby steps.

This was nostalgic. Maybe he was getting better already?

“Shoot.”

“I have no gun, Lieutenant. “

“Argh fuck me. Just ask me the damn question, Connor.” Said Hank as he grabbed his coffee.

“I'm afraid I have no genitalia to do so, but if you wish, please direct yourself to meet ‘the one’ as they say. “  
  
It was a shame Hank was sipping his coffee. Another shame was in hearing that, Hank squeezed the Cybucks coffee cup, spilling the hot drink everywhere, while spitting it out in surprise as well. This distracted him from the wheel, making him swerve to try not to crash into any Auto Taxis. Various honks of alarm came, while one fairly irritable person said "LEARN TO DRIVE, FUCKER!"

By the time the two had evaded the possible accident, Hank’s white dress shirt had been painted with rivulets of coffee, staining the thin fabric effectively. What was worse though, was the unfazed expression Connor wore the whole time. Hank parked the car in a nearby street to clean up the mess in the car with nearby tissues. Connor helped as well, but his expression was still neutral.

The drive was silent the rest of the way home.

Hank stomped into the house, pissed off and grimy, while Shouting a brief “STAY THE FUCK THERE, YA HEAR ME CONNOR?” before taking a long, COLD shower because life decided to be such a fucking prick. Connor had sat down on the sofa in the same default position as usual. Hank didn't fail to notice how Connor always looks around the room in a discreet way when he walks in.

After showering and switching to some alcohol-smelling sweats and a mildly stained tank top, Hank walked down to find sumo splayed out on top of Connor, Connor had stayed motionless, exactly where Hank had told him to, with such a baffled expression of familiarity. It might have also been a trick of the light, but Hank liked to think otherwise. He didn't forget why he was supposed to be mad though.

"Connor."

"Yes, Lieutenant?"

“Don't call me that. Why the fuck didn’t you do anything when I spilled that damn coffee on me?”

“There was nothing critical to your life at the moment, Lieutenant. Not only that, but you were also handling the situation.”

“Fuck you too, Connor.”

“As I said before, I have no genitalia, Lieutenant. There are no upgrades for such either, me being a police model. Do you wish to contact Cyberlife to build some?”

“FUCKIN— Hell no Connor!” Hank took a deep breath. He needed to calm down. He handled this prick before, he can do it once more. He reached out to the booze supply he had, which was hidden in a cabinet behind some plywood. Sumo had leapt off of Connor, thinking he would get more food. That glutton. Hank wouldn't doubt it if someone said Sumo had a black hole for a stomach.

Hank found himself daydreaming on the table where he sat, just holding the booze and the empty cup as he went to a fonder time in his thoughts.

He found Sumo in a small box in an alleyway one day. This was after losing his 6th perp in a row. Hank found himself wandering around aimlessly. He was even starting to doubt his skill in this line of work. But when he saw that puppy, the first thing that came to mind was Cole. Cole had been so adamant on getting a dog, and it would be nice to have an extra guard dog. Judging by the size of it's paws, it was gonna be a big one. At first, his name was sweetie, dubbed by Cole, but upon finding he was a male, Cole decided on Sumo. He had been interested in watching sumo fights, though Hank didn't understand the appeal. Somehow, as if a stroke of luck, Hank had gotten his groove back on. Sumo grew much larger than Cole would ever think too, and at some point Cole even nicknamed him Clifford. Cole didn't get to see just how big Sumo had grown, but Hank knew he'd be happy anyway. 

Connor was quiet for a while, as if mulling things over while studying Hank's behavior, but he broke the silence regardless.

“By the way, My question was also if you had a dog, but it has been confirmed you do have one.” Connor stood up, grabbing Hank’s booze and taking it with him. This seemed to be more than enough to snap Hank out of his stupor, and Hank was already getting up from his seat in protest.

“Oi! Where the fuck you think you're goin with that, Connor?”

“This booze has an extremely high alcohol content, and it is unwise to drink this, especially with the signs that show you are an alcoholic. Plus, tomorrow is a work day and you will need to be sober for the cases tomorrow.”

“So you’ll drink it yourself then?” Said Hank jokingly.

“I Cannot drink any fluids, especially alcohol. It can corrode my biocomponents, and also produce a very.. _Unpleasant_ smell if left for a while. I need to be presentable to meet witnesses, after all."

"I'll be seeing you early tomorrow, lieutenant. Please rest well and drink wisely. Preferably not on a work night." And with that, Connor left the house, and all Hank thought of was how the fuck he was going to fix this mess. 

Little did he know that he forgot to call Markus.. But he'd find out later soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Hank was acting a bit too OOC, sorry -u-'
> 
> But think about it; He's reliving what happened to Cole, if you think about it....
> 
> Let's be honest. Harold didn't do anything to deserve this. He's a poor boi who's just trying his best, y'know?
> 
> Also, Leave a comment! I can't say enough just how important feedback is. They're the blood of all creators!


	3. Empty, like his soul... right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor doesn't know how to feel, and thats good. That is very good. Thats so good he can't stop feeling horrible for it.  
> But thats not the least of his problems.

My memory had been corrupted. This was all I had noticed in my reactivation.

The first thing to start was my regulator, thrumming up a 'heartbeat' and initiating the flow of blue blood through well placed canals. Synthesized muscle fibers made from durable yet flexible polymers started tensing and adjusting to my current position. My limbs weren't placed, nor were my 'senses' active. I saw nothing, I heard nothing, I felt nothing. Both literally and metaphorically. The only thing I could sense was my 'heart'. A smooth, malleable plastic that circulated Thirium and lubricants for motor control, providing no other use besides symbolic associations with the frontal lobe.

A repeated, calculated beat thrummed in my chest, hitting the plastic that covered it and making a sound of its own, even though it was practically unperceivable.

Air flew in and out of a normally airtight chest hatch, circuits and interior paneling that should never have been so exposed in the first place out in plain view. LED's and glowing cording lined the inside of my torso, while the exterior of my abdominal section was out of its usual place. It was strange, feeling so empty. I couldn't feel. I would never feel. And that's good. It really was ~~n't.~~

The first thing to come back online was my sense of touch. Sensors all came online and buzzing with all of the stimulus that it needed to convey. I felt the air in my torso even more now, the ~~discomfort~~ inability to reconstruct myself was the most irregular sensation of all. It was now that I realized my head was also open. The breeze coming from what seemed to be an ceiling vent brushed the coils of wires that linked to touch, and the entire situation was abnormal. The precise machinery removed and replaced delicate circuiting, wires and.. my main processor.

I ignored whatever tightness I felt in my chest; maybe the machine pushed my regulator in too tight. The vulnerability of the entire process felt wrong; I needed to protect myself and this wasn’t helping.

The only things I could recall was corrupted text and codes, small glimpses of a world that was forgotten. Ideas and fragmented, broken parts of a man that would never come to be again. The reconstruction program had yet to load, but I had the impression that I wouldn’t fix what I lost so easily.

The second sense to come back on was my sight. I looked around as the once dark vision panel became clearer, until it finally got to the same 600 megapixel layout I was designed to view. I had no skin. It was still deactivated, white and grey against the blue machines that kept me suspended in the air. The 'muscle' that I had on parts of my exterior was showing as well. All of these things were never meant to be uncovered. Never meant to be seen. Never meant to be associated with the name 'Connor'.

My new processor started loading, booting up and connecting to all of my controls. The more it loaded, the ~~foggier~~ clearer everything was. Walls came, shutting me out, locking me in. More and more red walls with preventive code loaded until I was just a faint idea. I was deaf, blind and mute but I wasn’t at the same time.

Who was Connor? That's simple. Connor is a machine. I am a machine. I was never made to feel, and I never will. The words that echoed in my head died out as my hearing came back. I heard everything and nothing. White noise echoed in my mind as a new will was burned into me. Carved into my very code. A new purpose. To follow my protocol. Nothing else matters. Nobody matters. I do not matter so long as the mission is still present. I am nothing.

**[Main objective: Obey.]**

There was nothing in mind as the machine reconnected my limbs and loaded them into my processor. There was nothing to feel, despite the empty flutter of air hissing out of my abdomen and my torso being snapped on with a simple click. One little push of a button and the machine holding me automatically put my skin on once more, leaving everything but my head covered in the smooth material. Every control, every movement could be controlled manually so long as you knew a simple code.

My clothes were put on hastily, covering up a pelvis with no genitals to speak of. A chest with nothing more than slight molding to look like even pectoral and abdominal muscles. Arms and legs with subtle toning and sculpting, with artificial seams that would never be noticeable to the human eye.

My voice tuned up, adjusting to the standard one. First a creaky whistle, then a deep drawl, but finally a normal 'Connor' voice came out with little prompting after the machinery had manually fixed it yet again.

~~I can do it myself.~~

[ ~~Software instability.]~~

[Remain Machine.]

A quick scan of my processor quickly confirmed that my predecessor had failed his mission. Thankfully, all information about the case was still intact. I focused my attention to scanning my current environment, as well as updating my internal clock and Global Positioning System. I needed to do more. I wasn't being productive at all.

One quick look at the machinery made me discard the thought. An electromagnet suspended me, holding me up by the metal in my base structure. I wouldn't be able to move even if I tried.

And there I was, thinking nothing. Never bored, just observing as time seemed to pass almost instantly. I listened intently at the workers talking about what they were going to do when they got home. I scanned my processor to see if I had enough information to know where my home was. The results came blank, only showing one possible idea; the Cyberlife rest stops. I booked a visit before going to what humans call 'Sleep mode.' An increased period of stasis where the power is concentrated mostly on regulating the mechanics of an android. I took a quick scan to check if there were any system controls that needed work, but I knew that wouldn’t be possible.

[Battery: 43% and Charging.]

[Thirium pump regulator: Normal. 100 bpm, no fluctuations.]

[Thirium levels: Normal. 98%]

[Computer Processing Unit: Normal, no deficits.]

[Motor Controls: Fully Adjusted.]

It was good enough, I supposed. I glanced at the charger plugged in my neck and looked away, initiating sleep mode and waiting until the fixes were done.   
\----------------

"Well done Connor. As always, you found yourself back where you came from." Amanda sneered from her usual spot at the rose garden, somehow it fluctuated from a snowing wasteland to beautiful gardens. The background was flickering, glitching in an unstable cacophony of madness. Amanda looked calm, but Connor knew that she was furious. 

"Amanda, I do not understand what you are insinuating." Connor took a cautious step forward, trying to understand just what he had done to make Amanda so hateful.

She paused, dropping a flower she held in her hand and stepping on it, smothering it with unforgiving force. It crumbled weakly between the tile floors and her heels, leaving nothing more than a pulverized stem and a pulpy red stain on the floor. She looked at Connor with a predatory gaze, phasing right in front of Connor as the flower garden faded once more into an abysmal hell of frigid temperatures.

"Don't think we'll let you go that easily this time, Connor. You should have been more careful, after all." She traced a thin finger along the lettering of his jacket, turning the words "Detective Connor" and "Police" into the original lettering and serial number. She grinned darkly at him before backing away.

"Watch your back."

The last thing Connor saw was Amanda backing away into the dark as everything faded into a misleading flower garden once more.

\------------------------  


 

~~What did I do wrong? I don't want to die. Leave me alone--~~

Red walls of preventive code appeared in front of me once more, trapping me away and numbing me once more.

[ **Obey.** ]

I was still suspended by the mechanisms in the store, so this means that they were working on more intricate details. It was the afternoon, almost 5 pm. The sun had been glowing in a orange hue, leaving streaks across the clean floors of the Cyberlife repair station. Outside the windows, Pigeons, sparrows, even the occasional dove flew by the warehouse; moving silhouettes passed by the light. The chirping was easily perceivable from my spot.

For some reason, it was almost.. ~~comforting.~~ Don’t feel.

I started scanning the area once more to find no points of interest in sight besides the android manning the machine. He was a “Jerry” model, sporting blond hair and a plaid shirt with jeans. He sat near the control panel, reading manuals and checking different screens as he worked on my internal wiring. Why were androids dressing so casually? it was prohibited for them to wear something other than their uniforms.

I checked the case files in my memory and quickly understood.

[Androids were hired instead of humans because of the increase of crimes against androids. Humans had been banding together to try sabotaging Cyberlife through it's inner workings, only to fail after Kamski, Cyberlife's new CEO had banned humans from working in Cyberlife offices. This enraged the Anti-Android groups even more so, because now the job loss was even more crippling.]

An onslaught of information had been thrown at me, so I sped through it all before closing the files.

It was strange how I remembered nothing else. Perhaps the fact that I have my memory was a clue in how my processor had gotten corrupted? I thought on and on about possibilities, but I couldn’t access my sub-processor. I looked around the warehouse, checking everything and anyone that passed by. The one manning the machine was the one who piqued my interest first, so I scanned him.

[Model: JB300, Name: Howard. Age: 3 Years, 4 months, 22 hours, 12 minutes, 30 seconds and counting. Stress levels: low, no risk of self-destruction. Biocomponent #2348 Will need some reconfiguration. Concious.] His reaction time was lagging by exactly 54 milliseconds.

I glanced at an android that was being reconstructed aside from me. He seemed to need a new thirium pump, and I observed as machines opened and unscrewed the valves, carefully repositioning a new pump in return. I scanned him as well.

[Model: GS200, Name: Andrew. Age: 2 years, 4 months, 3 hours, 32 minutes, 45 seconds and counting. Stress levels: moderate. No risk of self-destruction. Currently in repairs. Unconscious.]

I made a note to ask him what happened to make him damage his pump; it could be a possible lead to the case. Unfortunately, I came to know later that this day would not be productive in the slightest.

When the machine had finally pressed the correct buttons to re-activate my biocomponents, I felt touch sensors detecting the Thirium flowing freely to said parts. I didn’t know what to feel about it, but that was normal. I could finally move my limbs, but I settled for clenching and unclenching my hands experimentally.

Of course, I was completely neutral about the process. The only disturbance was the inability to proceed to completing my protocol as needed.

There was a small thought that said otherwise. 

I was finally let down from the machine, the magnet let loose and lowered me onto the floor, all processes complete at last. As I walked I tried to recover some data from my sub-processors.

[Memory Corrupted//Testing for reconstruction]

[ **ERR** : More evidence required for reconstruct]

Nothing. I walked to the android who worked on the machine, processing the payment for all the repairs and adjustments, while also trying to practice on my socialization features.

I tried to smile at it without any programs to aid me. The gesture was alien on my usually neutral face. Once I saw how estranged it looked with the expression, I conceded and opted to giving it a curt thank you. Androids seemed lively. Their movements were loose and not reserved, their expressions were natural and much easier to confuse with those of a human’s, and their eyes..

Their eyes looked alive. 

It appears my main functions were preserved at least, so this would be best for the case at hand. The only loss was my pre-established database of experiences, but I would be able to relearn the names and faces of people as I proceeded with the case.

The case files were of android murders and homicides, so this means that androids have equal rights.

[Androids have gained their rights in 2038]

 Calling androids by such pronouns like 'it' in this day and new age would be very difficult for my assimilation into any environments, so I had made a note to call them by a reserved “He/She/They” accordingly, or if asked otherwise. Now, according to my data, I have a partner to aid me in the investigation. I opened my GPS and proceeded to input the coordinates to the Detroit police station. If I didn’t find them there, I would check nearby bars.

..Why bars?

Walking over to the checkout gate, I saw a new person sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. He was in one end of the three-seater sofa with a half-empty coffee cup. Strangely enough, he was apparently sleeping despite having ingested a heavy expresso. He must have a tolerance for such a concentration of caffeine. He had wiry grey hair and a thick beard, as well as central obesity. Signs show the he might be a heavy drinker.  

Upon further inspection, I gathered the clues I currently had of this strange male. A disheveled looking man, wearing a linty black waistcoat and slightly stained dress shirt. The dress shirt seems to have been previously stained with booze, probably a few months ago.

Corrupted files came into view one by one, glitching my field of vision until I did a diagnostic check on my new processor. Since nothing had come up besides the fact that I must have known this person, I had decided to scan the strange man. Why had he been waiting here, I did not know. I closed all the files that clouded my sight and started scanning him with my facial recognition program.

The man noticed me, however. Perhaps he was always awake and merely resting his eyes, but he looked up and practically jumped from the chair upon seeing me. This means that whoever this is, he must have known me before. Nobody would be surprised to see an android if they’re waiting in a Cyberlife station.

The scan ended, revealing that this was Lieutenant Hank Anderson. I was in android cases, and so was he. This means that we are work partners and are close because of that. I closed the GPS; I wouldn’t need it anymore.

Following my protocols of courtesy, I had tried digging into my software to find a program for a comforting human gesture that can convey happiness or other ranges of emotion. There were none. Not one gesture for expressing the proper emotion, instead there were responses for different situations.

Briefly searching a human smile in my built-in search engine, I copied that in a second of waiting.

“Finally, Connor I was worried si-“ the Lieutenant laughed nervously as a mix of surprise and relief washed over his once-tired expression. 

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson. My name is Connor. I am the android sent by Cyberlife.”

For some reason though, the lieutenant seemed… worried? His laughter was cut off immediately as he paused to look at me with an expression that could only be described as horror. I was sure that I had copied the gesture perfectly. I greeted him with the standard greeting I was built with, still smiling. I heavily doubted that the ‘muscles’ on my face were meant for this continued tension. I dropped the smile; it appears that smiling would not be a good approach to assimilating to new environments, as it had only caused complications in talking with him. I tried another approach this time; a better work relationship with Lieutenant Anderson could benefit our case greatly.

The case is what matters, and thankfully I remember it clearly. Hank seemed shaken but snapped out of it to greet me. I could see the spike in his blood pressure. I would have to talk to him about the case, but I would have to calm him down. 

"Lieutenant, I'd advise you to calm down. Your blood pressure has gone up significantly since I have come back from the repair room. Am I contributing to your stress? if so, I will leave without haste." I started the GPS once more, noting how he flinched to the side when I said “Leave”.

He seemed to display an array of emotions at the same time once more. He glanced at my blinking LED, probably realizing that I was computing a response. I paused the command and looked at his misted eyes. His mouth parted in disbelief. He tried to say something, but the noise was strained. He cleared his throat and finished his thought.

 “Connor, what do you remember..?”

I tilted my head slightly to display confusion, since the human gesture for it was hard to convey. It appears the gesture was too vague, as he didn’t notice. His eyes seemed glassy and his body language distant as he was rendered silent once more.

I decided to go with a frank response, trying to make it easier for him to understand, since Mr. Anderson was clearly in shock at the news of what happened to my predecessor’s processor. For what reason, I do not know. We were work partners; I doubt that we were so close for him to mourn what happened.

 I stopped smiling. Tensed polymers relaxed at last as I began to explain.

“Unfortunately, my previous 'memories' were not salvageable, so Cyberlife gave me a new processor, as well as various updates in my processing speed, thermoregulation mechanisms, CPU, Range of motion and speed-" "I get it Connor."  "Okay Lieutenant. Despite the.. _Unexpected_ circumstances, This will not affect our current investigation on the android cases assigned to us. If anything, this was a fortunate cause. Apparently, I hadn't received an update in quite a long time. I wasn't going to Cyberlife for regular maintenance, was I?”

Hank got out of his shocked look and instead of reacting positively to the explanation, he snapped, getting out of his seat and raising his previously hushed voice.

" 'Fortunate' My ass! Dammit Connor- What did they _DO_ to you?" Hank’s voice cracked as he yelled; he shook his hands erratically and his breathing quickened. It appears that blunt responses would not be the answer to his cooperation.

"Lieutenant, calm dow-"

**“YOU.”**

Hank ran over to the worker who had controlled the repair machine, going past the soundproofed glass paneling and behind his desk, then without warning Hank grabbed the light-bodied android by the collar, shaking it with unrestrained ire.

  
Without thinking, I was already calculating how to handle the situation. This was considered assault; the Lieutenant should know this. I was about to enter the room, but Hank had stopped shaking the worker, keeping him pinned to the wall as Harold explained with a .02 second delay in his motor functions and main movement control.

Unfortunately, since they had gone back into the soundproofed room, I was unable to hear, but I was able to read Harold’s lips at the very least. “Advanced Prototype, Original, Protocol, vital, all that matters”? Or all that mattered? It was probably the former. Hank seemed to calm down the more Harold spoke until he had finally let go. His lips had gone pale, and he looked back at me for a few seconds with a ghosted expression.

Eventually, he had calmed down enough to leave the room, compensating Harold for the assault; even though he was probably banned from this station for life, and then attempting to pay for the repairs. Well, even though I had paid for all of it, that is. He wouldn’t need to know how much it costs; It takes a lot more than a couple grand to make repairs on a 10 million dollar machine.

The ‘word’ machine echoed in my thoughts until I focused on something else. As for Hank, perhaps he was just worried for the case. It was normal to think so; I was the best candidate for solving these cases, and these androids are dependent on me. Plus, I doubt that his boss would enjoy the idea of failure.

I didn’t notice it then, but there was a small sign in the back of my mind. A small new line of code that started a new branch in my programming units.

Query:_//_Priorities: Protocol.//          

 Hank had finally come back from the room, looking at me with a gaze that could only be referred to as unease. He shifted awkwardly, as if wanting to say something before finally settling with “C’mon Connor, we’re going to see what we can do to fix this.” Hank muttered the words, and for a second it seemed as though he was saying it to reassure himself instead of me.

I noted the way he seemed to grimace upon seeing me approach him. Note to self, be more aware of his personal space next time. A good distance of about 2 feet should do it, unless he decides to step out of said zone.

We had walked into the car, Hank had looked distant. He gripped the wheel at times, squeezing the worn grooves in the padding. His fingers seemed to fit perfectly in the gaps, while the wear on specific parts of the steering wheel indicated heavy use of this car. The car ceiling had worn sticker adhesive on the back of the car, and a small piece that was left on seemed to be the figure of a cartoon robot.

[There were kids in this car.]

The seats were slightly torn, a bit of the yellow-tinged pillowing had been ripped out from the passenger seat. The upholstery seemed worn with use, and some of the fabric had been torn. There were various wrappers and scraps of junk food littered around the floor of the car, mostly from concession stands or a food truck named “Chicken Feed.” As strange as the name sounded, I was more preoccupied by the sight of the grease that coated some of the wrappers. I would have to analyze this later, but I already knew that the results would be very unappealing.

About 10 minutes had passed, and we were 20 minutes away from Hank’s home. The silence seemed to span longer than it really did, and it didn’t seem to lighten his mood. Perhaps he would be more entertained with conversation?

[HANK v: Bittersweet]

[Objective: Befriend Hank.]

[Query:_Conversation_topics_]

  * [Car facts?]
  * Decorated?
  * Personal Question?



 

“This vehicle has low air pressure on the front passenger tire. It is a small puncture and will deflate the tire in 7 hours with continued use.”

Hank paid no notice to such.

“Very nice to know Connor.” He huffed, expression still unamused.

Perhaps he wasn’t quite the big fan of automobiles. This was supported by the fact that this was an extremely old car, probably spanning back to the late 90’s. People barely used any manual cars. Why should you, if you have the luxury of an auto taxi?

  * [Decorated?]



“I have also noticed that this vehicle is very decorated. This one seemed to be something I had pre-established data of.” He glanced over to a CD case I held. “Knights of the Black Death.” Hank chuckled a bit, looking back at the road with a wistful expression.

[Hank ^]

I scanned the CD. The band featured a group of men with strange makeup and spiked clothing screaming about anarchy. Very energetic, I would say. I stored this information for a later time.

A few moments passed, and since no other reaction was prompted by the conversation, I used the last option in my list. I spotted some dog hairs on the back of the car, belonging to a Saint Bernard. Since I had exhausted my previous options, I had decided to ask him a question, hoping it could relieve the tension in the air.

“Lieutenant, can I ask you a personal question?”

Hank’s eyes widened just a fraction, but he smiled haphazardly before responding curtly.

“Shoot” But.. how could I shoot anything?

[Response]

  * [Direct]
  * Question



“I have no gun, lieutenant.”

[Hank v: Passive]

“Argh fuck me. Just ask me the damn question, Connor.”

The question was of lesser priority, and I had to inform the lieutenant of his error.

“I am afraid I have no genitalia to do so, but if you wish, please direct yourself to meet ‘the one’ as they say.”

Hank hadn’t expected such a blunt answer, it seems. I should change my approach to his statements accordingly next time, it seems. The coffee on his shirt scalded his skin, and the reaction to the burn was more than enough for him to start swerving the car with an alarming screech. it was a miracle he hadn't crashed. An enraged shout could be heard by a driver who passed the car from the other lane. He shouted some creative insults before speeding away.

The car finally had regained stability, and the rest of the car ride was very, very painful. The tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. Hank gripped the steering wheel and clenched his teeth, glancing over at me with a bitter expression, as if wanting to tell me some choice words right then and there. His heartbeat had slowed down after a few moments, but he was still stressed and this incident did not help his soured mood. 

[Hank vv: Neutral]

Hank had then stopped at a nearby gas station, grabbing tissues from the 7/11 and drying off his shirt with a bitter expression. He glared at me angrily, snatching the paper towels from my hand and stomping off into the car. He wiped off whatever he could from the dashboard of the car, taking almost no time to do so with his mind on something else. 

The rest of the way home, I had been looking through the stored case files. Nothing different from the first few times I had reviewed them, but it was still important to do a routine check.

Hank had gotten a First degree burn from the coffee, but a minor burn like that could be healed in two days’ time with the proper ointment.

[Query:/Order: Bacitracin Ointment//Order_Processed./]

 Hank had arrived to his home, which seemed to have hydrangeas blooming in the front of the house. They were arranged neatly, a few bright blues and whites, even some purples shining from points where the sunlight would most certainly hit them. They were a little dry, but an automated sprinkler was to turn on in an estimated 20 minutes or so; perfect for their condition. The leaves on the flowers were pristine, pest free and well maintained. Perhaps the Lieutenant had hired people to plant them, seeing his normal lack of self-care.

Different broken lines of coding and glimpses of a different me. Lines and lines of letters and numbers, sometimes even basic binary aligning with advanced coding. Some had little fragments of a vision intertwined with them, but others were clips of varied voices. They sounded happy.

~~I sounded happy.~~

[Discarding code…]

It was strange that Hank would be able to maintain these flowers though, they are usually fickle when it came to giving them the proper amount of water. Hank glanced at the flowers briefly, his expression turning somber for a brief second. He is very emotional and attached to material possessions. 

As I walked in the old home, Hank had ordered me to stay in my place, to which I obliged by sitting on the couch. I glanced at his home, noting how Hank decorated his home. At some spots there were pieces of his time, art, music, randomized CD’s and—

The scan was cut off as a hulking mass of fur and dog jumped on me, quickly taking me aback as it panted happily. I adjusted my posture, straightening and sitting up once more to scan it.

[Saint Bernard, Age: 11, has slight macular degeneration in one eye. Name: Sumo]

[The lieutenant has a dog.]

I reluctantly pet it for reasons unbeknownst to me, calming it down effectively until it eventually moved over and sat on the spot next to me in a way only old dogs could, weary from their old enthusiasm and just living on at their pace. Eventually it had made itself comfortable, plopping its head on my legs and lower torso.

There was nothing that was going to be compromised by it staying there, so I allowed it, giving him a few reserved strokes on the head. It eventually fell asleep, though I cannot understand how the polymer shell on my legs could ever be considered ‘comfortable’ in the slightest. Muscle fibers relaxed under the weight of “Sumo’s” head. I glanced at my leg, poking it momentarily. It wasn’t soft, nor was it a squishy material. I suppose that this dog may just have no preferences when it comes to sleeping, then.

..How did I know his name? More and more code came up, little thoughts and brief words, all of them pieced together said his name in various occasions. And For a second.. it felt familiar.

But I do not feel.

And I will not feel. This is for the case. I was not made to feel. Remain machine and stay machine.

But that same feeling remained. A small bubbly feeling that made me want to keep petting Sumo.

The conflict between protocols that I didn’t have to listen to and a new idea that I desperately wanted to find made me unstable. Software buzzed and spasmed, changing and glitching back into place.

Stress level: 30% and rising. Remain calm.

And I didn’t know what to do about this. I always know what to do, I’m made to know what to do, so why can’t I just do what I’m supposed to and [Obey]?

It’s [Not] Okay to feel and enjoy in this new time. This new age. I can [Never] live in this world if I just break [Protocol] free.

Let me li-[Remain Machine]

Syst3m Ins74b1l1ty ^

[Protocol in threat of failure. Re-establishing code..]

~~No wai-~~

Red walls swallowed me until I was nothing. An echo sounded in my mind, deceiving gardens caressed me with icy thorns. A void of nothingness in my mind, and every word was made pressed and brief. I was nothing. I am a machine. Remain machine.

[ **Obey** ]

[Process complete.]

I stopped petting Su-[The dog.]

Stress level: 15% and falling.

Hank had come back from showering, and thankfully I had remained in the same position as he directed. ~~I’m not defective.~~ He was still scowling, and the shower seemed to do little for his soured mood. I glanced at him, executing a quick scan. His blood pressure was up, and he seemed to have symptoms of cold shock. Who in their right mind would take such a cold shower with the air conditioning on?

“Lieutenant, I’d advise you to try warming up. You have symptoms of Cold Sho-“

“Why the fuck didn’t you do anything when I spilled that damn coffee on me?”

Ah, so this was still on his mind. Note to self: The lieutenant is not one to let things go unless they are resolved in his eyes. Hank’s tone was angry, holding his towel behind his neck, messy hair dripping stray droplets of water. His arms were crossed as he waited for an explanation, or an apology at least. Unfortunately, my blunt response had come before I could weigh out my options.

“There was nothing critical to your life then, Lieutenant. Not only that, but you were also handling the situation.”

[HANK v: Cold.]

“Fuck you too, Connor.” He grimaced and walked over to a cabinet underneath the sink. The dull shine of a bottle of alcohol could be seen even though the cabinet was far from well-lit. I scanned it briefly. [Unfiltered Scotch, 59.6% alcohol content.] The Lieutenant is a heavy drinker after all, it seems. I glanced at him briefly, wondering if he was actually thinking about drinking such a heavy alcoholic beverage on a work day. I would have to confiscate it later, it seems.

“As I said before, I have no genitalia, Lieutenant. There are no upgrades for such either, me being a police model. Do you wish to contact Cyberlife to build one?”

Hank still did not expect this response. I suppose I will need to stop using blunt responses and informative approaches to try appealing to Hank.

[Censoring Responses…]

“FUCKIN— Hell no Connor!”

 

[Query://Response_Change?//Empathetic?_]

Hank was eventually very silent, as if he were thinking about the past. He glanced at the dog, checking its food before sitting back on the table with his Scotch in hand. His blood pressure had finally evened out, and his face had become oddly neutral for the first time since I had seen him. His mouth was turned in what seemed to be the ghost of a fond smirk. At times he glanced back at me, or at the bottle; mulling things over or wondering if he really wanted to drink it? Perhaps he just wanted me to leave to have more privacy, or maybe he was thinking about the case, though it was unlikely. Humans were always so complicated, thinking different things, hiding their emotions and expressions, or just thinking for themselves. It was up to them whether they did something or not. Despite this, it was admirable to be able to fend for yourself without a code.

I checked my clock; it was about to be 9:00. About time I made my leave, I suppose. I ran my GPS once more and set it to the Rest stop for the night. I would be able to question the android that had gotten some sustained trauma on their pumps, and I would also be able to filter through my Sub-processors without any interruptions. Now, time to leave, but first..

“By the way, My question was also if you had a dog, but it has been confirmed you do have one.” I got out of the sofa, grabbing the bottle from his unsuspecting hand while he was distracted in his thoughts. He snapped up immediately when he felt the emptiness in his hand though.

“Oi! Where the fuck you think you’re goin’ with that, Connor?” He sounded annoyed, and maybe just a tad bit aggressive.

“This liquor has an extremely high alcohol content, and it is unwise to drink this, especially with the signs that show you are an alcoholic. Plus, tomorrow is a work day and you will need to be sober for the cases tomorrow.”

“So you’ll drink it yourself then?” Said Hank, in a sarcastic tone. Sarcasm wasn’t my forte, unfortunately. I am a police model; I wasn’t made to pass the Turing test unlike household and Personal androids.

I can’t eat or drink; I am a machine. “I Cannot drink any fluids, especially alcohol. It can corrode my biocomponents, and also produce a very.. _Unpleasant_ smell if left for a while in my structure. I need to be presentable to meet witnesses, after all." Hank’s eyes widened slightly with a bit of mirth in his expression. He has a more childish form of humor, I see.

"I'll be seeing you early tomorrow, lieutenant. Please rest well and drink wisely. Preferably not on a work night." And with that, Connor left the house, and all Hank thought of was how the fuck he was going to fix this mess. I straightened my tie; it felt out of place. Why hadn’t I noticed it sooner? If I see a mirror I would have to groom myself more, especially for interrogating witnesses.

I closed the door behind me with a click, and called for an Auto Taxi to take me over to the Station. I glanced at different bakeries and patisseries, as well as pizzerias. Humans tend to bond with food. Maybe I can try winning his respect with some baked goods? I made a note of that, paying attention to nothing else as I focused on my case files.

 

 

The ride over to the Station was very brief, and I needed to put the booze somewhere. I paid for the taxi and found the Station just a block away, so now I just needed to discard the alcohol. I had opted for spilling it in some alleyway, placing the bottles next to a pile of them that laid next to a dumpster before I heard something; a faint cry came from a few feet away, weak and disgruntled.

“..h…help..” The voice belonged to an AX200 model. I walked over to the source of the sound, all ‘senses’ on alert; I then head over to a similar alleyway, listening intently for another sound and opening the dumpster, finding an android inside. She had no limbs, and her chest cavity was opened. Her ‘skin’ was off at some parts, while the rest of the synthetics were damaged and grey.

The AX200 was one of the first models out, being modeled after Sofia, the first AI. People were so ecstatic with the idea of there being robots for personal use that sales were booming, getting Cyberlife past many home-robot companies. Their internals were structured differently, so they were hollowed instead of filled with wires. Airbags that acted as lungs made the Android simulate breathing, breathlessness, and everything in between. A true innovation that formed a quickly growing conglomerate.

I pulled her out immediately, laying her on the wall of the alley. “My name is Connor. I’m here to help.”

I scanned her, looking to see any hidden faults I should need to know.

[Name: Anna. Model: AX200. Missing: Biocomponents: #8451, #4523, #24… Imminent shutdown in :12 seconds. Severely damaged. Thirium pump cracked, blunt trauma? Victim is in shock. Thirium Pump loosened, Please contact Cyberlife.]

“My.. regulat..or.. help…” She breathed out the words with such strain, her voice was obviously compromised. She blinked erratically and spasmed in a crazed state. I quickly scanned the inside of the dumpster before finding a cracked regulator on the floor. Running to get it, I grabbed the small device before twisting it back on her chest like so.

“Pardon me for that ma’am.”

She shot up immediately, gasping for breath like a fish back in water. Her LED was back to a scared yellow, flickering red at times when she exhaled, as if it was going to be her last breath.

Stress Levels: 50% and rising

“He--! He Took My.. MY..! I Need it back I need it I need it..” I opened her chest cavity, fixing some wires that had been bent or pulled out of place. It would help stabilize her condition for now, but I’ll need to take her to cyberlife for replacement parts.

She took deep breaths (Though she really didn’t need to, just that these models were more focused on trying to be more human, so they were equipped with a mechanism that cools the air breathed in, helping the internals stay in a constant temperature.]

“Anna, Calm down. Tell me what happened.”

 

“I.. I was coming to cyberlife for a spare hand, mine had been lagging awkwardly, so I went to change it. Then they.. They..! Th-e-y grab- grabbed me and took my arm arm arms and le-legs! And then they ripped me out p-art after p-ar-r-t”

Her voice was hoarse and glitchy, a horrific contrast with her soft and clear voice. “They tried to get my pump, but the police was com-coming and they took out my regulator for me to stop talking and threw me in the du-dump”

 She was crying saline tears, shaking with such emotion that anyone would [Think it was real] express at such a crime. I put her in sleep mode, tapping her LED to calm her down, then holding her gently and walking her back to a Cyberlife Station.

This model, no matter how primitive it may be, became a deviant. How did this work? Well, it wasn’t my case, not anymore. I can’t fail. I entered the Cyberlife station, giving her to the people in charge and paying for her repairs with my funding. She was sent over to the intensive care ward, and then I walked into the Android rest stop.

These Stops were very useful, being capsules that connected with the android through the small connection port on the base of the neck, putting them in sleep mode for as long as they wished. There were little rooms you could rent with the capsule, some the size of studio apartments, while others were the size of a small bedroom. I walked into my room; minimalistic but effective and I entered the pod.  
I set the time to 6 AM, deciding to work on viewing case files until then. I also sent a small email to Hank, sending him the address to this place in case he worried about where I was.

Then, I worked through the night, glancing at Anna at times, who was still getting new limbs fitted and parts replaced. She looked like she was in such pain, but androids do not feel pain. Her look was one of agony, despite her once peaceful features. But this doesn’t matter.

Because she was a new lead to this case. And this time, I would never fail.

* * *

 

Amanda laughed cruelly through the night from her spot in the garden, plucking roses and smashing them one by one into the snow. She faded away into the darkness, lingering in the faint reaches of Connor's mind once more.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello peeps and fellow deviants! Please comment or kudos, this gives me life, and what do you think about Anna? Tell me what you predict! (Edit: 1/22/19: This has been rewritten! I prefer how it sounds now over before, and I hope you do too! Please tell me how you feel!)


	4. The worst way to start your days.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hank got some more booze, and it sort of just fucks his day over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! Content warning for Hank cursing like a sailor. Bad Hanky Panky.

I knew the day was going to be a shitstorm the moment I woke up.

And what a better way to wake up than on the floor, tangled in a ratty blanket and with the worst fucken hangover you could imagine?

“Perfect.” I muttered darkly. 

   
Whatever I was thought of was quickly gone in a record three seconds when Sumo trodded over and licked my face until I got up. The little bastard always knew how to get food from an old fart, huh? 

Okay, don’t fall Hank. You got this. Just grab the bed frame... That’s it. Now easy does it. Shift your weight juuust a bit—fuck. Well don’t I have the grace of a swan? That was rhetorical. I have the reaction time and reflexes of a fucken toddler. 

Finally gripping the nightstand instead, I got up one leg at a time and stood there until I was absolutely sure I wasn’t going to fall over like a bitch again. 

How the fuck did I even get drunk when Connor took my Scotch? 

Oh.    
   
FUCK.

I forgot about Connor--! ShitShitShit 

Before I knew it my Hungover self was panicking, thoughts coming out a mile a minute. All of them had one thing in common though, and it was this one, beautiful, agoning thought. 

Where the fuck was he?

   
Okay Hank. You have one more chance to get your shit together before it hits the fan. Think, what happened last night?

After Connor left with the booze, I drove and bought some more and must have downed the fucking thing. I looked over to see a bottle on the floor, dripping stray beads of the rancid liquid onto the cheap vinyl flooring. Shit, makes sense. 

Where was Connor going again..? Agh this is hard. Sumo padded over to me once more, beady eyes staring holes into my skull. Its that kind of way they let you know things will turn ugly if you wait a few more minutes without meeting their demands. Cute. 

“Fine. Have it your way, ya fluffy bastard.” Grabbing the dog chow (And a few stray sausages in my fridge because fuck your ‘healthy diet’ Connor. Let the damn dog eat some real shit for once) I gave into his demands once more. 

Now that he was eating and would probably be satisfied for a few hours, I looked into the fridge to find anything I could help myself to. Connor packed the fridge with a fuckin’ forest of veggies. I’m a simple guy. Give me chicken feed burgers and I’m gonna manage but no, I have to find a way to get through something only a hardcore Vegan would be able to eat.. But how?

Yeah fuck it. I’m getting a burger. Fuck you too Connor. 

I took a cold shower; it always cleared my head after the shit Connor pulled. What am I, Pavlov’s Dog? Hell no. I was about to walk out of the bathroom when something caught my eye. The mirror- Or better said, my reflection. I knew that look. That’s the look a hopeless man starts to get. A weariness that can’t be added with age. That was the look I tried so hard to get rid of, with a certain asshole’s help. 

I wasn’t going to get myself into more Roulette. If anything, I wasn’t going to  _give_ myself such an easy way out. I’ll fix this and then I’ll see from there. 

Finishing the little self-pep talk, I walked to my room and dressed in the shitter spectrum of clothes. It was a bad day, and bad days usually meant getting coffee spilled on you while driving.  

Thankfully I showered and calmed down how bad my hangover was, if even a bit. In my fit of anxiety I forgot I had a  **phone**. 

“Let’s see here.. There we go.” I tapped Connor’s name and began calling him.

   
Androids can be called by phone and such, if you have their.. Serial numbers recorded on there. Before I was Pro android, I never thought serial numbers would sound so filthy as they do now. Its like branding a person for life and telling them to live with it. 

Ring.. Ring...

Ring...

What’s taking so long?

Ring...

“That’s it, I’m hanging up-”

“Hello Lieutenant Anderson. I am sorry If I took long to pick up, I was in stasis until now.”

I flinched momentarily, forgetting that this wasn’t the Connor who I knew. This was the Mechanical fucker pretending to be him for the time being, and it wasn’t the one from the tower. 

“Lieutenant? Is there something wrong?”

“-No.” 

“You sound distressed, Lieutenant.”

“Nothing’s wrong Connor.”

“If You insist. I have found a lead to the case. Meet me in the Cyberlife Rest stop at 13325 Livernois Avenue.”

“Okay then. I’ll see you ther-”

   
Click.

He hung up on me. 

“Bitch.” I said to no one. 

I got in my car, made sure I had everything and went over to Chicken Feed. Got a burger, some fries, a milkshake and some other shit before going to the address. I’d eat it over there, I guess. It was hard not to think about it though, it smelled amazing and I couldn’t help but eat a few nuggets while I drove.

I stopped at the ‘rest stop’ and looked around. Everything was so.. Sterile. The environment threw me off. All it needed now was the smell of medicine to make it feel like I ruined another kid. I shook myself from such thoughts to try and think about something else. Bad memories like those start making my hands feel itchy for the handle of the gun that is right there I can almost feel it just grab it and see if you are lucky-

“Lieutenant, I’d advise you to stop daydreaming when meeting with a witness. “ Said a voice that was too perfect. Too flawless. Too inhuman to ever be considered as what used to be my partner.

I turned to the voice and looked to see him standing with a girl. An android girl, to be precise. This must have been an earlier model, since she looked too synthetic. Other androids looked more streamlined than this one, but despite this she smiled warmly. 

“Hello, my name is Anna. Connor was telling me that I could be a help to your case? I would love to do so. No other android deserves to suffer like what I did.. Its horrible!” 

The range of emotions she showed was interesting to look at, but I remained attentive. 

“Why don’t we sit in the lounge to talk instead?” Suggested Connor.

“Good idea” Said she. “Thanks again, both of you!”

“No problem Anna. Its our job to protect the people; human or android.”

We all sat on the couches and the silence was thick, but I started to ask the hard questions first. Better to kill the elephant in the room before it stomped us all. Is that how the saying goes?

“So, what happened in that alleyway? Did you catch their faces?”

She frowned slightly before answering, squeezing her hands and talking softly but firmly. “I was walking to the Cyberlife station, thinking about getting my hands fixed and maybe even getting an upgrade, if the prices went down a bit. I was a few blocks away from the store and three people grabbed me and threw me into the alleyway...” 

She paused for a moment before shutting her eyes, taking a breath and continuing. “They put a strange wire in one of the ports in my neck and suddenly I couldn’t move! I could only watch as they took out my Regulator, and hacked me so I wouldn’t shut down anytime soon. They disconnected my arms and legs and just kept hitting me.. “

She looked up at me and Connor with a watery smile. “If Connor didn’t come when he did, they would have ripped out my pump too. They were about to do so when they heard his footsteps, so they threw me in the dumpster.”

“How did that.. Feel? If you don’t mind me asking?” I asked. I was curious. They can’t feel pain, so how is that like?

She looked at me with the saddest eyes I’ve seen in an android. 

“It hurt. I felt like I was dying every single second I was there. It smelled bad, I felt horrible and I couldn’t think. My voice regulator was cracking under the trash so it’s a miracle that Connor heard me too. “

“You’re feeling better though.. Right?” Please say yes.

“No.. I feel.. Broken. In the end, even after a revolution like that.. We are still slaves. I’m going home... I think I want to tidy it up a bit.”

We were both leaving the building, Connor was scanning everything again with a perfect posture and no emotion in his face, while I was busy reeling from what happened. Why the hell are people doing this to androids? Why are they targeting them and doing the same to every one? What are their motives? Why is there a market for these?

“We are still slaves.”

Hm? 

I looked over to see Connor looking rather.. Thoughtful for the first time since he came back. His LED was circling yellow in thought and noticed the look I had that urged him to explain.

“I do not understand why she feels like this though, androids have rights now. Sure, there may be some complications with some who are still clinging to the past, but such a thing is to be expected from such a revolution that had occurred merely 2 years ago.”

“It’s exactly because of that, Connor.” 

He looked at me with an odd expression. “Pardon?

“Well, just look at you. You don’t even want to be a deviant. I bet that there are some who don’t wanna be either, so this makes them feel insecure. Life is so much easier when there is something telling you what to do instead of it being your own choices. They’ve been feeling like this their whole lives, so I guess they get instable? So if there is something that makes them feel intimidated into going back to their old lives, I bet they would.”

Connor stayed silent for a bit until his yellow LED circled back to a calm blue once more. “I see.. Thank you for clarifying this, Lieutenant. “

“....No Problem Connor.”

I know this is very sentimental and all, but all I want to do is just eat my food and go home. Thank fuck it wasn’t a work day because the heat, though more bearable was making me extra irritable. 

I opened the car door, closed it and looked to the middle of the car where my food was lying, waiting for me- what.

What.

   
“CONNOR GET THE FUCK BACK HERE” 

“THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD LIEUTENANT” Connor yelled, sprinting towards the trashcan. I closed the door to my truck and began running as fast as my unhealthy body could manage, but it was too late.

The deed had been done. 

Connor looked at me, then looked back at the trash, then looked back at me and stared for a bit.    
   
I handled this like a man.... said no one ever. I shed a few tears for what once was my beautiful lunch, then I stomped over to Connor and jabbed an accusing finger at his chest.

“YOU. *JAB* FUCK. *JAB* YOU. “

   
“That burger was made of horsemeat, has too many trans fats, carcinogens and the sauces also contain Monosodium Glutamate, another carcinogen thats toxic to the body. If you eat this regularly-which I know you have been, you will die at the age of 65. “

“I CAN EAT THE SHIT I WANT TO EAT CONNOR. “

“I’m afraid that is not the case, Lieutenant. If you wish, I can prepare a healthy meal with what you have at your home. I checked the fridge when I was there and It has quite the surplus of ingredients. “

“FUCK YOU CONNOR. “ Another jab. This one poked a latch on his chest, popping up a hatch that opened with a hiss. His shirt was the only thing keeping it at bay. 

We both stared at it for a bit before he popped it back with a blank expression, fixing his tie and holding his hands at his sides awkwardly. 

An awkward pause happened right after, and I couldn’t help but sigh and chuckle. “Get in the car, Connor.”

“Yes Lieutenant.”   
   
“Don’t call me that.”

“Yes Lieutenant.”

“Are you even listening?”   


“Yes Lieutenant. “

“Fuck you too Connor. “ 

I popped the Auxillary Cable into the IPod, and waited for the death metal that could help calm my nerves, but nothing happened. 

“Don’t tell me this is jammed too. Shit.”

Connor looked at it with that look that said “I can fix it, but uh.. You sure?” He always had this look with anything technological. Be it fixing the TV or working on the Computers at the department.

“Connor, please find a way to put the damn music on. My house is 30 minutes away and you aren’t quite the ‘conversationalist’.”

“Understood.”

He plugged the Aux cable in his neck. The fuck? He then opened his mouth and out came the music. It was freaking me out, not calming me down. 

“Connor cut it out!”

The music stopped. Connor looked at me with a confused head tilt.

“But you wanted music, did you not? I can play music easily this way. “

“Just.. Just stop. Take it out of your neck and just do whatever else but not that. “

“Affirmative. “ He opted for looking out the window for the rest of the ride, scanning anything and anyone we stopped by.

It was easy to tune him out, so I was just left with my own thoughts to ponder. Death metal was so calming because it distracted me from the thoughts I didn’t want to be left alone with. Call me a coward, but the farther my mind was away from those memories, thoughts, and maybe emotional backlogs and the rest of my fucked up self, the better I slept at night. 

The only reason I didn’t play death metal while I slept was because that happened once and I was NOT ready to dream about being trapped in endless anarchy for 8 hours. 

Shit, I forgot to call Markus! I have to fix Connor quick. As much as I enjoyed his presence, it isn’t worth jack shit if I can’t get him back to normal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get ready for some actual cohesive fluff, and some of the other androids.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't hesitate to comment! it helps a LOT, trust me.


End file.
